


Blanket Burritos with Breakfast Banter

by TalkMagically



Series: Murder Boyfriends [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, rating is because they talk about murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 09:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18588064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalkMagically/pseuds/TalkMagically
Summary: Lucifer sleeps over at Michael's for the first time. Set between "How to Irritate Your Brother in Five Minutes" and "Forced Kismet".





	Blanket Burritos with Breakfast Banter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mrs_SimonTam_PHD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/gifts).



Lucifer slowly came to consciousness, feeling no desire to leave the nest of blankets he was in because of the glorious knowledge that he was  _ not _ on call this weekend. He burrowed deeper into the mattress and pulled the comforters closer. It was likely hot as hell outside - with it being summer and all - but the blasting AC made the layers of blankets absolute heaven.

The scent of the room was the first thing that reminded Lucifer that he was not in his own bed. Gabriel used Mrs. Meyer’s brand laundry detergent on anything and everything that wasn’t Lucifer’s work uniforms (those got dry cleaned), so Lucifer always woke up to a faceful of Lemon Verbena. The fabric currently around Lucifer, however, simply smelled clean. Lucifer finally opened his eyes and remembered why he wasn’t smelling Lemon Verbena at the moment. He wasn’t even in his own house.

Opting to wrap himself in a comforter like a burrito so he wouldn’t lose any of the warmth, Lucifer forced himself to get up and wander out of the bedroom he had slept in. The sound of Saturday morning cartoons greeted Lucifer as he walked out into the upstairs hallway, causing him to snicker in amusement.

“I didn’t take you for a cartoon guy!” Lucifer called out as he descended the stairwell.

“Do I look like a sheltered heathen to you?” Michael responded loudly. Lucifer followed Michael’s voice into the kitchen.

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Lucifer asked. He walked up to where Michael was standing at the stove, peaking around Michael’s shoulder to look at what Michael was making. “Do I want to know what that blob of white is?”

“It’s called an egg white omelette, Lucifer,” Michael said with a hint of irritation.

“Looks like snot,” Lucifer stated bluntly before retreating to the table to sit down.

“You are more than welcome to make your own breakfast, then,” Michael said. He gave Lucifer a knowing look over his shoulder. “Or is the concept of a proper breakfast foreign to you?”

“Not all of us work cushy office jobs,” Lucifer retorted.

“Some of us wake up early enough to eat before going to work,” Michael replied.

“If you think my job affords me that luxury most days, we should switch places for a week,” Lucifer muttered.

Michael’s mouth shut with a click of his teeth as he turned back to his omelette. Lucifer wasn’t wrong. The luxuries of Michael’s job weren’t afforded to everyone, and Michael shouldn’t be assuming so. Michael was far too used to interacting with other lawyers.

“With your reputation for being a workaholic, I’m surprised you’re not getting ready to head to the office,” Lucifer said, transitioning to a slightly different topic now that the moment of jesting had passed.

“I promised my ADA that I’d stay away from the office on the weekends unless a legit emergency came up,” Michael replied.

Lucifer pondered over Michael’s answer as he watched Michael put the egg white omelette on a plate and start cracking more eggs into the skillet, this time leaving the yokes included. Omelette number two must be for Lucifer.

“Is this ADA the same one who helped you with Dick?” Lucifer guessed.

“Yes, it’s Raphael,” Michael confirmed. He worked on autopilot as he whisked up the eggs in the skillet, his movements hinting at a daily habit of making omelettes. “He and I have known each other since college. He’s more of a mother hen than my own mother.”

“I wish I could say the same regarding Gabriel, but his need to keep the house clean is from his OCD and not from anything our mother instilled in him,” Lucifer said.

“ _ Our _ mother,” Michael repeated, pausing his actions to turn around and look at Lucifer with a raised eyebrow.

“Gabriel’s my little brother,” Lucifer admitted. He hadn’t realized that he hadn't told Michael that yet. Lucifer thought he had. Oops.

“How did brothers turn into killers together?” Michael asked.

“How did college buddies turn into killers together?” Lucifer shot back.

“Raphael killed his roommate’s girlfriend on accident and I helped him hide the body so it looked like she ran off,” Michael answered without hesitation. Lucifer blinked, not having expected an actual answer, and weighed his options. Gabriel was going to throw a fit about him staying the night already. Did he want to push it and share such details with Michael so quickly?

“After our father died, I found out that his doctor was purposely negligent,” Lucifer began. That was one way to answer without giving too many details. “When I told Gabriel what I found… plans developed from there.”

“To be a fly on that wall,” Michael muttered in veiled amusement before returning to making Lucifer’s omelette.

Lucifer let silence fall over the two of them as the cartoons continued to play in the other room. This wasn’t the usual ‘morning after’ Lucifer was used to having after his first sleepover with someone. More often than not, he was being rushed out the door for some reason or another. Being late for work was the most popular. But Lucifer and Michael  _ planned _ for this weekend, so Michael was already different from Lucifer’s usual ‘flings’ (as Gabriel liked to called them).

“I hope you enjoy vegetables because that’s what I gave you in your omelette,” Michael announced as he set a plate in front of Lucifer before taking his own seat at the table.

“I can’t remember the last time I was picky about something I ate. As you so eloquently phrased it, the concept of proper meals is a borderline foreign concept for me,” Lucifer said. He poured himself a glass of orange juice from the pitcher left on the table before reaching for his fork to dig in. “If Gabriel wasn’t such a nag, I’d probably be like most of my coworkers. Surviving on a diet of fast food and take-out.”

“Well, then thank god for Gabriel,” Michael said through a smirk.

Lucifer rolled his eyes and shoved a forkful of omelette into his mouth before he could say anything else. Sleepover weekend was starting to get good, what with the banter and all. No need to ruin it by bitching about Gabriel.


End file.
